


Aurora Means Sunrise

by arielmagicesi



Series: Pynch week prompts 2016 [6]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-The Raven King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 02:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7827223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arielmagicesi/pseuds/arielmagicesi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While cleaning the basement, Adam and Opal find some old Lynch family photos and home videos. Ronan and Adam both think about the meaning of family while looking through them.<br/>Pynch week (although late), day 7, prompt: dawn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aurora Means Sunrise

It was sometime in the spring of Adam’s senior year at Aglionby. He, Ronan, and Opal had been going through boxes of stuff in the basement, trying to clean up. They had to continuously stop Opal from toppling over fragile dream-clocks and tacky vases. At one point, Opal ran over to Adam holding a framed photo, giggling under her breath, and whispered, “Look, Adam, look.”

He looked. It was a six-year-old Ronan, curly hair and bright eyes, dressed in a suit holding an award that proclaimed _third place_ and the name of some Irish singing competition.

Adam threw his hand over his mouth, also stifling a laugh, but his heart warmed immeasurably at the sight of it. He’d thought often about what Ronan’s childhood had been like- good things, like a loving mother and consistent meals, and bad things, like secrets and violence and rivalries. And he’d wanted to know more about it, but he hadn’t pried. He knew what it was like to be asked about these things.

This, though- this was so innocent, and unbearably adorable. He wondered if there were any photos of himself that age looking so happy.

“What’s so funny?” came Ronan’s voice, from where he was sorting through a box of tangled-up Christmas lights.

Adam looked up, smiling.

“Can’t believe you only got third place in this singing contest, Lynch,” he said.

Ronan’s eyebrows rose and he walked over. At the sight of the photo, he turned red.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Didn’t realize my childhood photos were so hilarious.”

Opal was still giggling.

“Kerah!” she exclaimed. “It’s you but small! You look fucking stupid.”

“Don’t swear,” Ronan said.

Adam, laughing, leaned close to Ronan and said, “You look cute, actually.”

Ronan’s face scrunched up in irritation, but he was clearly embarrassingly pleased by this. He said, “How would you feel if I found your fucking childhood photos, Parrish?”

“Don’t have any,” Adam said.

“Oh,” Ronan said, and he got quiet.

“It’s not a big deal,” Adam said, because he didn’t want it to get awkward. “My parents didn’t really take pictures of me. They threw out the free school pictures we got. I might be able to find something if I looked with my elementary school-”

“Fuck that,” Ronan muttered, sounding dark.

Opal looked up, face a little worried, and she said, “Why did they throw out your pictures?”

Adam stiffened. He never talked to Opal about his parents if he could help it- he didn’t want her to know, so young, about the kind of cruelty that existed even outside the world of nightmares.

Ronan looked at Adam, and Adam could see the anger in his eyes, but instead of cursing or spitting, Ronan just said, “They weren’t nice, Opal, that’s all.”

Then, to change the subject, he said, “Come on, you wanna look at more embarrassing pictures of me as a kid?”

“Yeah!” Opal said, leaping up, and Ronan got up off the ground to go look for photo albums. Adam got up and whispered, “thank you,” to him.

“No problem,” Ronan said quietly. Then he added, “It’s shitty they didn’t want any pictures of you. My parents took a million fucking photos of us. Videos, too.”

“They took _movies_ of you?” Opal said, because when she wanted to she could hear everything they said.

“Yeah, brat, they took movies of us.”

“Can I see them?”

Ronan threw a hand on his forehead. Adam, who also desperately wanted to see home videos from the Lynch household, said, “Yeah, Ronan, can we see them?”

“Traitor,” Ronan muttered, but he located a box full of CD cases labeled ‘Home Videos.’

“My mom was really into this shit,” he said, heaving them into his arms and heading toward the stairs. “She copied all our videos onto CDs so that we could watch them when we grew up.”

Adam could hear the break in his voice, and suddenly he realized that his and Opal’s request had been perhaps more selfish than he’d thought.

“Hey,” he said, putting a hand on Ronan’s arm at the foot of the stairs. “If you don’t want to watch these-”

Ronan looked back at him.

“Nah,” he said. “It’s fine. I mean- I’m not great- I’m getting better- so it’s fine. I want to watch them.”

Adam nodded.

“OK, then,” he said. “Can’t wait to see more embarrassing childhood memories.”

Ronan glared at him, and they headed up the stairs, Opal scampering on ahead past them.

Adam and Opal settled onto the living room couch while Ronan messed with the old DVD player until he got one of the CDs in there and playing. The first thing they saw was a young boy with a neat haircut standing nervously in the middle of the living room. Adam felt an odd jolt- the same room they were in- he could tell the similarities. It was the same couch, only a lot less messy back then, and there was different furniture around it.

“All right, Declan,” said a female voice- Aurora’s. “Come on, you can do it.”

Ronan’s shoulders tensed.

“Ronan,” Adam said gently. “It’s OK.”

Ronan nodded and got up to sit on the couch with them. Opal, who always knew how to react to him, set her head on his leg and gently patted it. Adam tentatively put an arm around him, and Ronan leaned in.

On the screen, five-year-old Declan was singing an Irish song, not very well, and staring straight forward into the camera. Aurora murmured words of encouragement from behind it. It shouldn’t have been very interesting, but Adam was fascinated by the whole thing- a mother who knew only how to love, a son singing without being interrupted or told to shut up.

As if to contradict this last thought, another force barreled into the screen and yelled, “Declan, I want _my turn!_ ”

“Oh my God,” Adam said. “Ronan, is that you?”

Ronan covered his face in his hands, which answered that question effectively enough.

“Ronan, let your brother finish his turn,” Aurora said.

“But Mommy! I want to sing too and he’s taking forever!”

“Oh my God,” Adam said again, cracking up. “Ronan, you were such a brat.”

“Yeah, Ronan, you were a brat!” Opal said gleefully.

“Shut up,” Ronan said.

“Mom, Ronan won’t let me finish my turn!”

“I learned it too and I can sing it better! I mean it!”

“You’re always mean-” Five-year-old Declan shoved four-year-old Ronan, and Aurora was saying, “Boys, that’s enough-”

The camera shifted awkwardly, clearly being set down on the couch, and there was a garbled sound before the video shifted to a new shot.

This time, Aurora was in the shot. Adam glanced over at Ronan instinctively. Ronan was biting his lip, and then he let out a breath.

Opal squeezed his leg.

“You OK?” Adam said quietly.

“Course I’m OK,” Ronan said.

The screen showed Ronan’s room, only it looked nothing like Ronan’s room did now. It was clearly a toddler’s room- covered in bright, colorful dream toys, wilted blue petals, a bedspread with cartoon characters on it, posters proclaiming Irish pride.

The voice behind the camera was one Adam had never heard before.

“Time for a bedtime story, my loves,” it said, and Adam knew instantly who it was- male, adult, powerful and magical. Niall Lynch.

Aurora was sitting on the edge of the bed, and tiny toddler Ronan was tucked under the covers, looking up at his parents adoringly.

Something longing and painful twisted in Adam’s chest.

“Niall,” Aurora said, smiling wide. “Put that camera down, don’t use it at bedtime.”

“But I want Ronan to remember this,” Niall said. “Even when he’s a big grown man and he doesn’t want to hear bedtime stories anymore-”

“I still would want to hear bedtime stories!” little Ronan insisted.

Adam held onto Ronan’s shoulder tighter.

He didn’t know, at that moment, which was worse- never having had a childhood, or having had a childhood like this which was snatched away and dissolved violently.

“Of course you will,” Aurora said, running her hand through Ronan’s curls. “All right then, Niall, keep the camera on if you insist. Let me tell you tonight’s story.”

Four-year-old Ronan curled himself into the blankets, still smiling. Adam was overwhelmed.

“Do you know what my name is, Ronan?” Aurora asked.

“It’s Aurora,” Ronan said, smiling proudly.

“That’s right. And do you know what Aurora means?”

“Aurora means sunrise,” Ronan said, with the air of someone who’d gone through this routine before.

“That’s right, very smart. Now, Aurora means sunrise because the Romans had a goddess of the sunrise, and her name was Aurora, too. And every morning she would fly across the sky to announce that the sun was coming up.”

“I thought there was only one god,” Ronan said.

Aurora laughed. “Yes, that’s true, but the Romans didn’t know that.”

Adam glanced off to the side- he was never going to understand how people could raise their kids with blind faith- but on the other hand, it was better than raising them to believe only in fear.

He knew it was stupid to compare their two childhoods- it wasn’t like Ronan’s childhood had been perfect. Half of what had made it so sweet and nice was horrifying violence and thievery hidden just below the surface. But Ronan hadn’t had to know that, as a child- all he’d known was unconditional love and happiness.

Adam couldn’t help but be a little jealous.

Aurora was finishing up her story onscreen, something about the goddess Aurora’s true love being turned into a cicada, and four-year-old Ronan’s eyes were wide.

“But- he couldn’t turn into a bug!” he insisted. “That’s not a happy ending, Mommy, change it.”

“Oh, Ronan,” she said. “Not all stories have happy endings.”

From behind the camera, Niall’s voice said, “But don’t worry, Ronan, your life has only happy endings. I promise you, no one’s turning you into a cicada.”

“Yes, Ronan, we promise,” Aurora said, kissing him on the forehead. “We’re going to be with you forever-”

The TV clicked off.

Adam startled a bit, having been lost in watching, and he turned to Ronan, who had the remote gripped in his hands and his teeth clenched.

Opal was curled in his lap and holding onto him tight.

“Ronan,” Adam said, and any jealousy he’d had fell away.

“I’m sorry,” Ronan said, his voice trying to be still and robotic but failing. “I’m sorry. I thought I could handle it but I can’t- I’m sorry-”

“There’s _nothing_ to be sorry about,” Adam said fiercely. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. You can take as long as you want to deal with it.”

Ronan was shuddering, clearly holding back tears, and Adam said, “It’s OK.”

Then he was crying, and Opal had her arms wrapped around him in a hug, and Adam threw his arms around both of them and pressed his forehead against Ronan’s temple, and tried to think of something to say, but there was nothing to say.

“I miss them,” Ronan choked out. “I- I don’t know- why it’s still like this-”

“It’s OK,” Adam said. “Whatever you’re feeling, it’s OK, it’s OK.”

They sat there for a few minutes. Ronan didn’t cry much- he took a few deep breaths and then he closed his eyes and leaned into Adam and Opal.

“Kerah,” Opal said gently. “It’s OK to be sad.”

Ronan opened his eyes and looked down on her. He ran his hands through her hair.

“That’s true,” he said. “You’re smart, Opal.”

She gave him a small smile. Adam looked down at her, too, feeling his chest swell a little with pride.

Ronan took another deep breath.

“I _am_ still sad,” he said. “I miss them so much. But-”

He looked down at his own hands. Adam waited, pulling away a little to give him some space.

“Mom,” Ronan said, “would be happy. If she saw us. She was always saying that- _Aurora means sunrise_. That was what she loved- sunrises. New things. New starts. She would have been happy that I have a new family.”

Adam closed his eyes.

He could hear those words echoing in his mind- _a new family, a new family_.

He’d never had a real family in the first place. And to have this- love, unconditional, trust and support and touch and laughter and memories- without any dark side, harsh undercurrent, pain or fear.

To have this new family felt like a sunrise.

He leaned in and kissed Ronan’s cheek.

“She would have been happy,” he said. “You can be sad, Ronan. But you can be happy, too.”

“I am,” Ronan said, and put one arm around Opal and the other around Adam, and let slip a small, new smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I handled the grief/weird romanticization of the Lynch family thing well; let me know if you have any issues.  
> And yeah, this is technically my last work for Pynch week! I did not skip day 6- I posted a list of headcanons on my blog, and I don't know how to do links on here so just go to the Pynch week tumblr to find them. I have a day 8 freeform thing that I'll probably put up tomorrow, because I am late with everything.   
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> I'm on Tumblr at arielmagicesi and Twitter at @ArielKalati if you want to talk to me there.


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